While Away

Last night, I returned from four days in Portland, OR. It was a perfect trip starting and ending with three hours of driving between Missoula and Spokane (from where I flew the rest of the way). Three hours of silence and solo time are a rarity in life and I was grateful for the time to be alone driving through the spare winter landscape of western Montana and the Idaho panhandle.

In Portland, I attended my cousin's sweet-heartfelt-joyous-fun-memorable wedding; huddled around a bistro table with my mother and Auntie Jill eating croissants; watched the mist rise on the Clackamas river; talked talked talked with far-flung family; attended church with my cousin Lukas and friend Suzy; walked around under arching empty trees with great black branches.

Tim and the boys held down the fort in Missoula. Their boy-time ran to more frozen pizzas and rootbeer floats than was strictly necessary, but, high fructose corn syrup aside, the boys had a wonderful time palling around with their dad. Tim and Than took them hiking up Mt. Jumbo on Sunday, which was deeply blue-skied, and at the house the boys invented games to keep them well occupied.

Hiking on Jumbo

"We don't have a fire truck, but that's ok because we have a fire bike."


Fresh and Clean Menagerie

According to the church calendar, this past Sunday marked the close of the year. Advent, which begins next week, is the opening of the church year. Somehow my trip to Portland seemed a fitting end - a restful space - to close out the year and get ready to begin all things again.